


Paint a Lie

by magnificentmagnolia



Category: Papillon (2018)
Genre: Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 18:02:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17833454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnificentmagnolia/pseuds/magnificentmagnolia
Summary: Papi and Dega try to escape in plain sight but it doesn't go according to plan; Dega comes up with a plausible cover story.





	Paint a Lie

**Author's Note:**

> This hasn't been beta'd so any mistakes are mine.

Charrière froze even before he heard the sound of gravel underneath a boot heel and felt Dega turn to stone beside him. Charrière caught the whites of Dega's eyes as they glimmered behind his glasses. Neither breathed. Charrière saw Dega look glance away from him in the direction of the sound and then back. There was a pause and then both of them sprinted the ten feet it took to get into the shadows developing in the corner underneath the some low-hanging eaves. Charrière's blood was pounding in his ears. He was sure it was audible, at least to Dega. There was barely two or three feet of shadow and Dega might be a small man but Charrière wasn't; one deep inhale an the hem of Charrière's shirt would be brushing against Dega's.

The footsteps were definitely coming their way, though, there was no denying that. It was early enough in the evening that being out of bed at this hour did not necessarily mean that an escape was in progress and they'd prepared for that. The burlap sack containing bed linens hung forgotten over Charrière's shoulder and Dega's right hand clutched a pail of lamp oil. Just a couple prisoners, finishing a last minute task. All pathetic and above board. Except they were in the shadows, silent as the dead. Charrière felt his blood turn cold. _Shit._ They hadn't kept their nerve; neither of them. They should have just kept walking and let themselves get caught. Take a little punishment and a lot of lip but they both had clean records and they had given themselves plausible cover. It would have blown over in a week. But now! Throw in hiding in the shadows and any plausibility went right out the window. _Fuck_. The guards were getting closer. Dega looked up and over at him, his gaze just clearing the rim of his glasses and hooking Charrière and sharing a warning stare. Apparently he'd come to the same conclusion.

They were going to get caught, probably in the next couple minutes. And then things were going to go downhill.

Charrière felt Dega stir beside him, slowly lowering the pail of oil to the ground. Charrière glared at him, flaring his nostrils and trying to look as threatening and chastising as possible while still being completely still and silent. _What the hell are you doing?_ Dega held Charrière's gaze. He was a full head shorter than Charrière and, at this proximity he'd have to tilt his head all fully back to stare at Charrière's face through his spectacles. Dega might be blind as a bat but he understood eye contact. He held Charrière's gaze and Charrière stared at the glint in the blackness of his comrade's eyes. Cagey. Charrière was used to Dega looking cagey– it was one of his defaults– but not directed at him. Charrière furrowed his brow slightly, hoping Dega could see in this light. _What are you thinking? You better not be about to do something stupid_. Dega glared back and Charrière perceived a stiffening in Dega's jaw. The thought flitted across his mind. How strange that they could communicate like this? Then again, Dega wasn't communicating back. If Charrière hadn't known so well that Dega harbored a firm stubborn streak, he would have started wondering if he was imagining everything. But then, "Keep your cool, safecracker, and let me paint a lie."

Dega spoke so softly that it was almost telepathic, a movement of lips and tongue with no voice behind them, riding on a measured exhale of breath. Charrière could feel his heart beating in his ears. Or was that Dega's? Did it matter?

Slowly, Dega began to sink lower, never breaking his gaze with Charrière. The pail of oil didn't make a sound as Dega let it rest on the soil, but Dega didn't rise. He moved slightly to his left, more directly in front of Charrière's body. Charrière shrunk away, giving Dega more room for... whatever he was planning on doing, but his back quickly hit the wall behind him. Dega moved with him, closer in towards the wall, still low to the ground, almost on his knees. Charrière's ear drums were about to burst and the guards were getting closer. He felt a hand on his ankle, firm and hot and trembling. He looked down at Dega who gave a brief, firm nod. Confident, reassuring. Bullshit. Charrière was too preoccupied trying to figure what Dega was up to that he missed Dega's other hand, fast and firm, pressing on his hip bone. He nearly bucked, causing Dega to grab onto Charrière's hip and ankle lest he be tipped backwards. Charrière looked down to see flashes of rage behind Dega's glasses. Apparently this was not what Dega considered keeping his cool, but the traces of the lie Dega was about to paint began to form in Charrière's mind and he had to agree with Dega. It was a good cover for their shrinking in the shadows. He leaned back into the wall more, steading himself so Dega could gain better purchase on Charrière himself, and looked down at Dega. He nodded. Dega nodded. The guards got closer.

Suddenly, Dega's hand made a wide, clumsy motion, sweeping across the front of Charrière's striped trousers with a definite rustle of fabric, and his foot nudged the edge of the oil pail, clanking the handle. Charrière knew the cue and ran the back of his head against the wall behind him, grinding his hair against the stone. Dega's hand was inside his pants, now, running lustily down the inside of his right thigh and studiously making contact with nothing important. Charrière let a deep breath escape him and moved one hand from the wall to Dega's ear, making as though to grab his head. Dega shushed him loudly and moved his head closer in over Charrière's groin. Charrière felt hot breath and quivering throat just above his cock, which twitched in response. Charrière mentally snarled at himself. _Leave it_.

Dega had noticed the stirring in Charrière's pants. How could he not? Dega was face to face with Charrière's cock. He glared up at Charrière, lips pursed and chastising. _Seriously?_ Charrière glared back and widened his stance in retaliation. What did Dega expect? Charrière's cock wasn't any more connected with his brain than any other man's. The glint in Dega's eyes made an arc that Charrière recognized as an eye roll. Charrière let out another breath, licking his lips loudly and throwing in a grunt. A smile split across Dega's face and Charrière saw him roll his tongue and teeth sharply across his lips, trying to make them red and glistening. _Ah fuck_. Why couldn't Charrière keep his competitiveness in check for just a moment? Then again, why couldn't Dega? This was his stupid idea after all. If there was one thing Charrière had learned about the man in the six months they'd been inmates together, it was that Dega had earned his place in the Paris underworld, and not just for his art. He might not be physically imposing, but he wasn't as helpless as everyone thought he was. Wasn't as helpless as Dega himself thought he was. _Where did that come from?_

Charrière realized he'd been hardening up staring down at Dega and sharply snapped himself back to reality. The guards were almost here. Not removing his hand from Dega's ear, he put his other hand down the waistband of his trousers and started to pull them down while Dega worked on his own lips, trying to make it look believable. How long would they have to wait here like this? How far would they have to go? Apparently Dega was getting just as impatient for the performance to be over. He shushed Charrière again, louder this time, and Charrière let the burlap sack drop to the ground. Finally, the guards looked over.

And saw exactly what Dega and Charrière had hoped they would see. Charrière moved a hand protectively over the back of Dega's head and glared at the guards– doing his best to look indignant that the private tryst he'd tried to organize with his prison bitch had been interrupted. He let out a frustrated growl and let go of Dega in a huff. Dega did a good job of looking subservient (hah!) and embarrassed, bringing his hand off Charrière's hip and pretending to wipe his mouth and hovering awkwardly for a moment, trying to look small and helpless. Charrière shoved his shoulder and Dega let himself be pushed away, flopping back on his hands a little more dramatically than Charrière thought was necessary. Charrière made a show of pulling up his waistband and adjusting his shirt. It was his turn.

"What? See something you like, brother?"

The guards laughed and Charrière squared his shoulders, trying to look his most brutish. "You and that little slice of yours are going to have to take it back to the barracks, boy."

"Aw, now, gentlemen," Charrière opened his palms and grinned widely. "Can't a fella have a little privacy once and a while?" Dega was rising to his feet in the background, gathering the oil pail and the burlap sack with hunched shoulders. "You know how it is. A slice like that? Hard to get off with the rest of the barracks wishing they could ride with me."

Dega shuffled up behind Charrière, keeping his gaze turned down and away from the guards who were eyeing him now and he squirmed under their gaze but managed to put a cheeky hand on Charrière's lower back, letting it linger demonstrably. One of the guards walked up to Dega, crowding him away from Charrière who instinctively took a step forward before he caught himself. The guard looked Dega up and down and hissed in his ear, "Your wolf there might be big, but he's powerless." He circled behind Dega, running a hand across Dega's lower abdomen as he went round. "Let me know when you want to put that mouth of yours to better use." Dega's concentration was more intact than Charrière's. He let the guard catch his gaze and let him hold it until Charrière snatched at Dega's hand, pulling the sack towards him and Dega with it.

He roped an arm around Dega's shoulder and pulled him in close, "When I'm done with him, I'll let you know."

The guard laughed but didn't make another move. His patrol partner, hanging back and clearly not supportive of his colleague's judgement, snapped at Charrière. "Get back to your barracks immediately. If you're caught out close to curfew again, you each get a week in the cells–" Charrière and Dega glanced at each other with mock eagerness and Charrière almost laughed at the natural synchronization of their lie. "–NOT together. Back to your barracks. NOW." 

Dega smiled meekly and looked at his feet as though blushing while Charrière let out a derisive snort. The two turned slowly back towards their barracks, making sure to keep their hands on each other until they'd rounded the corner and were out of sight of the guards.

Dega dropped away from Charrière immediately and stopped mid-stride. He shook himself slightly and ran his free hand through his unruly dark hair. _How much pomade did he have to use back in Paris?_

"That _prick_ ," Dega hissed. "I half expected him to make us go through with it while he watched."

"You should have thought of that sooner," Charrière hissed back, annoyed at the way his mind was jumping around. "Would have been worse on you than on me, princess." 

Dega looked disdainfully at Charrière. "I'm sure I could have found a way to slip and bite." Sarcastic, exasperated, but not malicious.

Charrière was silent for a moment. "You put on a convincing show."

"So did you."

Charrière shrugged. "I was a navy man." Dega raised an eyebrow. "Not like that," said Charrière. "But it was hard to avoid the knowledge. What's your excuse?"

"I was in a boy's boarding school," Dega didn't seem to be fully paying attention but turned his eyes to Charrière. "Hard to avoid the knowledge." He kept looking at Charrière. "You're going to need to make sure that's fixed before we get back to the barracks. I've had enough play acting for one evening." Charrière spent a moment in confusion before he saw Dega flick his eyes down to Charrière's groin, one eyebrow raised above the rim of his glasses. Charrière looked down. _Fuck_ , he was still half-hard. How had he not noticed?

"Yeah yeah," he huffed. "Don't flatter yourself– this was for that guard."

Dega let out a short bark of laughter. "Well, when you're done with me, I'll make sure to tell him."

And, just like that, they were fine again. Somehow, back to normal. How did that happen so quickly? Charrière and Dega got back to the barracks a few minutes before curfew and made their way to their corner in the back just before the turnkey showed up to begin his rounds. They left the burlap sack and pail of oil by the foot of their beds and laid down beside each other. Charrière was surprised to find that he felt no residual awkwardness. Dega's body beside him was so familiar as to be unexceptional, despite how their bodies had been together only fifteen minutes earlier. The turnkey locked them in at the ankle and Charrière turned his head slightly towards Dega, whose breaths were already begin to slow with sleep while Charrière tried to pull his mind back. They'd almost gotten caught. They would have gotten caught if Dega hadn't been quick on his feet and flexible with his pride. Charrière watched Dega's breaths become slower and slower, one hand laying lightly on his chest and the other down by his side closest to the wall, and soon found himself asleep as well, head still turned towards Dega.

**Author's Note:**

> I seriously doubt that this plan would have worked or that they would have been allowed enough leeway to try it in the first place, but oh well.
> 
> Also, please don't kill me for using "Charrière" instead of "Papi/Papillon"-- in my head, the nickname is something other characters use when speaking to Papillon so I don't want to call him that in the narration.


End file.
